


Phil(o)sophy

by mizface



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1402081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizface/pseuds/mizface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a list in his head: <i>Things Clint Barton Knows About Phil Coulson</i>. And before you ask, this isn’t just something to refute the gossip (Agent Coulson’s an android/alien/clone/twin/whatever). In fact, the list contains nothing about Agent Coulson at all.</p><p>This is a list about Phil. And the intel on it was much harder to come by than anything about Agent Coulson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phil(o)sophy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a giftfic I wrote for Bitchin Party's anonymous Bitchin Buddy exchange. My buddy, Troyswann, had said in a post last year: _Okay okay, I'm answering comments (go me! Shawarma!), but I have to stop in the middle to say that I accidentally mistyped "philosophy" as "Philsophy" and then I thought, in that glee-grenade-brain-thing way that happens when one is blissfully free of desire to write fic but is deeply invested in there being fic, that there needs to be a Clint/Coulson fic called "Philosophy" about Clint learning Coulson's secrets._
> 
>  
> 
> _Okay. Get on that, internet people! *waves hand grandly* I will await your fics. *waits, slouched in a big golden throne, while wearing a fancy and deeply impractical hat*_
> 
>  
> 
> Turns out, I couldn't resist the prompt. A million and one thanks to Hazelwho, the bestest braintwin a gal could ask for, for cheerleading and beta.

There’s a list in his head: _Things Clint Barton Knows About Phil Coulson_. And before you ask, this isn’t just something to refute the gossip (Agent Coulson’s an android/alien/clone/twin/whatever). In fact, the list contains nothing about Agent Coulson at all.

This is a list about Phil. And the intel on it was much harder to come by than anything about Agent Coulson.

**1\. Phil can dance.**

More than that, he really enjoys dancing. And he’s _good_. Clint doesn’t know the details (he’s guessing forced lessons as a kid that grudgingly turned into love), but the signs are all there. There’s more to the way Phil holds himself than military training, though he can see why most people would come to that mistaken conclusion. But when you grow up around acrobats and performers, you get to know how they move. How they stand. How they stretch.

That he loves it revealed itself (at least to Clint) when Agent Coulson had to hit the dance floor as part of an undercover op. Though at that point it was just confirming what Clint had already guessed. How no one else on the op had seen it coming was still a mystery (seriously, and these people were supposed to be trained observers?) but it won Clint a tidy sum in an impromptu betting pool, so no complaints.

Not that Clint could have complained. Or even spoken, to be honest. He’d been entranced from the moment Coulson’s foot touched the dance floor, arm linked with his partner’s as they used the dance to scope out the room. Coulson was all grace, more than just competent, and it didn’t even look like he was having to work to glide across the floor like Fred Astaire reborn. It wasn’t showy, of course, but Clint still couldn’t take his eyes off the man, the relaxed set of his shoulders, the effortless way he led his partner.

So yeah, Phil Coulson can dance.

**2\. Phil hates classical music.**

Okay, that may be a little harsh, but it’s definitely not number one on Phil’s hit parade. Oh, he likes to pretend otherwise, but Clint’s been on enough road trips with the guy to know better. Yeah, the classical playlists are there, but Clint’s pretty sure that’s just for show (Okay 100% sure, because he maybe kind of sort of hacked into Phil’s iTunes account and checked number of song hits. Maybe.) And while Phil has a wide range of music he likes, from what Clint’s found, classical stuff is pretty low on the list.

No, Phil’s version of classic leans more toward rock. Some of it is no surprise (Beatles, Who, Rolling Stones, Eagles) but there are a few that make Clint do a double take (Ramones, Sex Pistols, Nine Inch Nails, Stone Temple Pilots, some group called The Headstones that Clint’s never heard of, but ends up appreciating once he looks them up). 

Clint is pretty sure Phil knew he’d been snooping, but how he’d react when Clint fessed up - that’s more of a wild card.

Clint bit the bullet when he picked the music the next time they were driving. When _Pretty Little Death Song_ started blasting out, Phil didn’t even raise an eyebrow, but Clint knew everything was good by the slightest quirk of Phil’s lips, there and gone, easily missed unless you were looking. 

Clint is always looking.

**3\. Phil’s favorite gas station food is chocolate donuts.**

To be clear, it isn’t Phil’s favorite _breakfast_. That would be blueberry pancakes with real butter and maple syrup (on the side, for dipping so the pancakes don’t get too soggy), scrambled eggs, a side of home fries and so-crispy-it’s-almost-burnt bacon, with black coffee and a glass of 2% milk as a chaser. But that’s a sit-down, take your time kind of meal, and SHIELD agents don’t get too many of those.

So food you can scarf down while on the go it is, and of all the varieties of things that constitute a to-go breakfast, those nasty-ass , waxy chocolate donuts are Phil’s favorite. But he almost always buys the powdered ones too. Clint’s pretty sure he does that partly as a challenge and partly as a way to keep fueling the “Agent Coulson’s a total badass” fire, because no matter the circumstances, not one speck of powdered sugar ever ends up on Coulson’s suits. Ever. Clint has watched the man eat those donuts more times than he can count, and he still can’t figure out how Coulson does it. Any attempts Clint has made to do the same have ended up at best a mess and at worst a disaster. But he’s pretty sure part of it is how fast Coulson eats them.

The chocolate ones, however, Phil takes his time with (in the relative sense of having time for a quickie breakfast). Which means that sometimes (and Clint’s still not sure if those times are the lucky or unlucky ones) the chocolate has a chance to melt, just a little. Just enough to stain Phil’s fingers. Just enough for Phil to have to lick that chocolate off. Just enough to make Clint a little crazy with wanting to know what would happen if he showed up on Phil’s doorstep one day covered in the stuff (he said it was making him crazy, right?).

**4\. Phil likes cartoons.**

Clint’s still not sure how no one else seems to know this. After all, Phil’s love of bad reality shows is common knowledge (well, at least to those above a certain clearance level). Of course, Clint only figured the cartoon thing out as a fluke. It was on a mission, and the classified location was, for once, one Clint didn’t mind. It was warm but not hot, there was a tiny bit of a breeze (not enough to mess with aim, but definitely enough to keep him from sweating too badly), and there was the promise of a real meal at the end of it, at a mom & pop kind of place Coulson had told him they absolutely _had_ to go to. Seems it wasn’t Coulson’s first visit here, and he remembered the food fondly. Clint had been too flustered by the fact that Coulson wanted to spend off time with him to do anything but nod, but it had been enough.

From that point the mission had felt… different somehow. Not casual, but at the same time, Clint didn’t know how else to describe it. It was like some line had been crossed that Clint hadn’t even known existed. Whatever it was, it made the mission feel more like time off than working. So when the target came into view, Clint’s all-too unprofessional response had been, “Ready to rock, sir?”

He’d nearly fallen out of his nest when Coulson responded, “And or roll, Barton,” because first, a Simpsons quote? Second, on an op? Third, a _Simpsons quote_? Clint filed it away and did the job, but no way did he forget.

After that, it’s kind of Clint’s personal mission to see just how extensive Phil’s cartoon knowledge is. Clint’s, for the record, is pretty massive. Cartoons usually didn’t have long plotlines, and honestly, death-free escapism is what he craves when he needs to shut his brain off. He doesn’t test the boundaries of Phil’s knowledge around anyone else, wanting to keep this between the two of them. Hey, if Phil hasn’t told other people, maybe he wants it kept secret for a reason, right? It isn’t like Clint’s trying to create some special code for the two of them or anything. Really. But for every “Exit, stage left, sir?” or “This one’s smarter than the average bear, Barton,” that passes between them, that bit of self-deception gets harder to believe.

When they stop what turns out to be not a group of terrorists but just a madman with some extremely impressive homemade bombs from destroying Big Ben just as the clock struck twelve and Coulson turns to Clint, eyes bright with adrenaline and relief and whispers, “Spoon!” Clint gives up thinking he’s anything but completely fucked.

**5\. Phil can burn water.**

If Clint hadn’t seen it for himself, he wouldn’t have believed it. How someone so incredibly competent, so able to read, understand and follow plans as detailed as the ones SHIELD came up with (and boy were some of them needlessly convoluted), for someone who could quote regs down to the last sub-clause, you’d think Phil could at least be able to make spaghetti without having to call the fire department.

You would be wrong.

You’d also think Phil would have realized this by now, and when trying to impress Clint with a homemade dinner (even though Clint is fine with pizza, with take-out, with just freaking _being with_ Phil for crying out loud, no food bribes required) he’d have gone the smart route. The one that involved ordering food and sneaking it into pots and other cookware before Clint got there. The one that involved just warming up restaurant fare and not nearly catching your kitchen, and possibly the entire building, on fire.

Again, wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.

But luckily, Phil is a guy who liked to be prepared, and for whom safety is A Thing, so fire extinguishers were readily available. Even luckier, the take-out menus Phil had valiantly hidden were spared, so dinner is still on, only slightly marred by the lingering smell of burned plastic (don’t ask) and scorched metal.

**+1. Phil is not a morning person.**

How Clint knows this one? Above your clearance level.


End file.
